Pet
by chshrkitten
Summary: Buffy/Dru oneshot. Buffy is on patrol, and Drusilla is loitering in a graveyard. Pre-fight banter quickly turns to conversation. Set at some point in early season two. CW: mentions of past animal neglect/abuse, murder, some ableist language from Buffy. Angel's past treatment of Drusilla is briefly implied.


When Buffy saw the white dress shining like a star in the middle of the graveyard, she sighed, and somehow knew exactly who it was. Resigned, she walked a few steps closer. Yes, it was little Ophelia over there, leaning back against a gravestone, and staring openmouthed up at the sky. This would be the first time actually fighting her. Buffy found herself strangely excited by the prospect.

"Drusilla." Buffy called out,heading towards her with one hand on her stake. "You should probably go home. If you don't, well, I'd love a chance to stake you."

Drusilla blinked over at her, but didn't move. Buffy smiled, and stepped so close to her that she could practically have ruffled Drusilla's hair with a hard sigh. She waited for the attack. It didn't come.

Instead, the vampire reached out and ran one finger over the head of the stake in Buffy's hand. "Pretty." She whispered.

Buffy arched an eyebrow. "Well, I'm more of a pearls and diamonds kind of girl myself, but there's nothing wrong with having eclectic taste."

"Is there still blood on it?" Drusilla asked, her curiosity not mixed with the slightest trace of concern. "No, you kill them so quickly they don't have time to bleed."

"Yeah, I'm really efficient."

"You know how to do that so well, little trained killer, but you don't know everything."

Buffy shrugged. "Yeah, maybe not. I sure don't understand you, or why vamps are how you are. But you know what?" She smiled sardonically. "I'm kind of okay with not getting that."

"We are how, Slayer?" Drusilla looked up at her, maybe offended or maybe just waiting for an explanation. It was hard to tell, especially in the dark.

Buffy shrugged. She could feel the conversation getting off-topic from pre-fight banter, but it was still interesting. "I know why you kill. Because you are what you are. But why do you like it?"

"Blood is bright where the world is dark. They showed me that once, and then I showed him. Blood is thicker than the water of the womb, you know. That's very important. Sometimes I'm sad when the family is gone from me, but death is sadness, and death is what witches and demons get." She spoke almost distractedly, as though reciting something she'd heard a long time ago.

"You just- accept that you don't deserve anything that makes you happy?" Buffy shook her head in wonder. She really should just stake the freak, but what little she could understand of that 'explanation' was actually really sad. "How do you live like that?"

"My prince makes me happy, and I try to be his dark princess, but sometimes I'm bad, and he won't fix it the way Daddy used to. Love makes my Spike too silly sometimes."

"Okay. Uh, give me a second with that, alright?" Buffy tapped her foot in thought. "So..you love Spike…or whatever vampires do instead of love, no offense...but you don't think he should care about you back? Even though he does?"

"Monsters do bad things they shouldn't."

"I'll take that as a yes. But doesn't he know you better than anyone?"

"From eyeballs to entrails." Drusilla smiled serenely, staring off into the darkness.

Buffy crossed her arms, fighting off the chill brought by a sudden wind through the cemetery. "Okay, that's not creepy. I guess it's...sweet, though? A vamp-y kind of sweet?"

"It's as sweet as sugar and honey to the two of us, killer girl."

"Don't call me that. So what's the problem?"

"Four hours till the dawn. We could stay out here for five, it's a better number. You could watch me from ashes to ashes, 'to dust thou shalt return'." She laughed, tilting her head and letting silky dark hair stream out behind her in the late-night breeze. Buffy wondered for a second if this was some kind of gross crazy-girl flirting. "Would you like to see that, Slayer?"

Buffy blinked. Hearing her title in that odd, rounded little accent suddenly made the female vamp sound so much like Spike. It was startling. "I mean, like, no? Why would I want to see that?"

"Flesh exploding around you, and the dust settling over that pretty blonde hair. It's-"

"Ew."

Drusilla paused, one eyebrow elegantly raised. Are you done? May I finish? Buffy could almost hear her say. After a moment, Drusilla continued. "It's just as pretty as the springtime. I've seen it. I've been watching you when you fight."

Yup, definitely gross crazy-girl flirting. "Most of the vamps in Sunnydale have been watching me. It's a survival kind of thing." She tried to sound tough, tried to get the conversation back on firmer ground. Like there ever was any with Drusilla. Why had Buffy let her strike up a conversation again? Why hadn't she just staked the vampire, that literally being her job, and her literally being on patrol tonight? And just as perplexingly… "Hey, where's the boyfriend tonight, anyway? I've never seen you go anywhere alone before."

"My Spike always takes care of me…"

"I'm sure he does."

"...he could take care of you too."

"Uh, you mean 'take care of' in the stabby-bitey-kill-y sense, right? Because, I'm pretty sure that's all your hubby likes to do with Slayers. Not that I've ever thought about anything else with him!" She added hastily. "God, that's gross!"

"Slayer blood is like nectar, they say, but Spike always wants to just pour it out on the ground. And coffins don't drink."

"What does that even mean? Why do you always talk like this?"

"I'm mad." Drusilla laughed, high and silvery. "Did no one tell you that?"

"No one needed to." Buffy muttered.

Drusilla spoke slowly now, and distinctly, as though explaining a basic concept to a child. "In life, blood returns to your veins. In death, all is hushed and silent beneath the skin. You see now?"

"I...I guess I do. Gross, gross, gross." She shuddered. "So like, what? You two would keep me alive as a personal blood bank?!"

"I keep pets. Or," she paused, frowning prettily as though trying to remember something difficult. "I did. I had birds, but something always happened. Spike only brings me pet meals now, and my dolls. I miss the birds."

"What, did you forget to feed them or something?"

"I fed them sometimes. Except when they were bad. Sometimes they sounded like they were weeping and weeping, and wouldn't stop. I had to stop them then. Meals do that too." She added as a casual afterthought. "But it doesn't make my precious Spike sad when I make them quiet."

Buffy couldn't help edging away from her after that horrifying little monologue.

"Oh no, you'd be a special little keepsake to us." Drusilla said, interpreting Buffy's reaction only somewhat correctly. "Different from the human meals. For a while at least."

"You're disgusting. Fuck no, and fuck off." Bury spat, shaking.

Drusilla blinked, eyes wide and wet. Absurdly, Buffy felt a flash of guilt over causing that tearful expression. Then Drusilla smiled brightly.

Buffy didn't have time to duck away before two slim, pale hands snapped around her shoulders like a vice. Could she have broken free? Well...maybe. But she was too startled. Yeah. That was it.

Drusilla kissed her. Buffy was motionless, was shocked, was not at all enjoying herself. No way. That'd be beyond sick.

The vampire broke away from her, smiling. She no longer had that pouting, fitful expression Buffy was used to seeing on her. She was open, victorious, and maybe something else less easily defined. In an urgent whisper, as though delivering some vitally important secret, Drusilla said, "Wish you were a doll, Slayer. You'd still be a summer's day."

In an instant, the vampire was gone, leaving the Slayer standing shocked by a gravestone. More silvery laughter echoed back across the cemetery. It didn't occur to Buffy to follow the sound.

Instead, she stood still, trailing her hands across the finger-shaped bruises beginning to rise faintly to the surface of her arms. That would mean long sleeves for school tomorrow, Buffy thought, abstracted and absently. Well, she laughed to herself, the monster's newly-revealed fixation on her might end up meaning a lot more than that. But she'd have to wait and see…

Even later that night, with Buffy tucked safely beneath her blankets, and her bedroom window locked shut, she could still feel the cold touch of a dead girl's lips meeting hers.


End file.
